


Nightmare .

by w3r3w0lfk1n



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death In Dream, Dreams and Nightmares, Gay, Light Sadism, M/M, Minecraft, Sad with a Happy Ending, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w3r3w0lfk1n/pseuds/w3r3w0lfk1n
Summary: A nightmare, also called a bad dream, by definition is an unpleasant dream that can cause a strong emotional response from the mind, typically fear but also despairs anxiety, or great sadness. However, psychological nomenclature differentiates between nightmares and bad dreams; specifically, people remain asleep during bad dreams, whereas nightmares can awaken individuals. The dream may contain situations of discomfort, psychological or physical terror, or panic. After a nightmare, a person will often awaken in a state of distress and may be unable to return to sleep for a short period of time.What happens when that nightmare becomes a personified being who seeks wrath on everything that its host loves?
Relationships: Antfrost & Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream & Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch, GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Zak Ahmed & Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Author's Note !

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Journal,
> 
> People are disappearing. It's been happening for months now, but now it's happening more frequently. Not only people in L'Manburg, but even people from The Badlands and the outskirts of the country have disappeared. Nobody knows who or what is doing this, and I'm terrified for my friends' lives. Every day when I wake up, a new missing person's file is reported to King Eret. It's terrifying, and I don't know how to keep the people safe.
> 
> I've also been getting these excruciatingly painful migraines every night before I go to sleep. It only happens when I'm half-conscious, about to drift to sleep. Though I'm barely awake, I can feel the pain surging through my head. It hurts so bad, but it doesn't wake my body up. For some reason, it almost helps me sleep. 
> 
> The migraines spawn these disgustingly detailed dreams about these disappearances. Sometimes I see myself committing violent acts against the people who've gone missing. It's torture for me, and I don't know how to stop it. I may consult with Wilbur tomorrow for some potions for better sleep.
> 
> That's all for tonight, I can already feel the beginning of the soon-to-be migraine as I grow tired. I'll head to bed now.
> 
> \- Dream
> 
> \------
> 
> A nightmare, also called a bad dream, by definition is an unpleasant dream that can cause a strong emotional response from the mind, typically fear but also despairs anxiety, or great sadness. However, psychological nomenclature differentiates between nightmares and bad dreams; specifically, people remain asleep during bad dreams, whereas nightmares can awaken individuals. The dream may contain situations of discomfort, psychological or physical terror, or panic. After a nightmare, a person will often awaken in a state of distress and may be unable to return to sleep for a short period of time.
> 
> What happens when that nightmare becomes a personified being who seeks wrath on everything that its host loves?

Welcome MCYT whores! This is a story about Dream being possessed and his mind overtaken by his alternative, Nightmare. Nightmare hijacks Dream's mind and takes control of his thoughts and body, wreaking havoc on the entirety of the DreamSMP.

Content warnings for the following story:

\- Violence

\- Gore

\- Cursing

\- Demon!Dream

\- Blood

\- Major and Minor Character Death

^ For all of your sake, the major character death is not permanent.

* May have more but as usual, I have no plans for this story so I don't know what content there will be yet *

I love detail so these topics may be very detailed!!

There will be a little DreamNotFound but it won't be the main plot. Dream and George have both said that they find fanfiction about their relationship hilarious. I'm sure you can find the clip somewhere! If they say otherwise, then I will delete the story =)


	2. Coffee Shops and Paperboys

The smell of fresh newspaper clouded my senses, dark ink stains coating the wooden floor of the printing factory. My fingertips held a thin sheet of the cheap sugarcane paper, my eyes scanning over the vividly dark ink. My breathing was slow, and I knew I appeared calm to the printer boy, but internally I was overcome with my anxieties. I inhaled deeply through my nose, gripping the charm around my neck as I exhaled the aforementioned breath. As my thumb glided over the smooth material of the necklace charm, my anxiety attempted to drift away. I rolled up the freshly printed material and threw it onto the table where the printer boy sat. He made a noise of disapproval, but at that moment I couldn't have cared less. The words I had just scanned off of that paper buzzed through my mind, drilling the information into my skull.

Another citizen reported missing from the northern Badland territories, friends say he vanished without a trace. 

"That's the third one this month, Dream," the paperboy said to me. 

I sat silently with my back against the cobblestone wall, thinking deeply. I knew my head was a dangerous place to be in, but there was nothing more for me to do than think. 

"Dream?" I heard the boy say, but my name sounded like a foreign word to my ever so lost mind.

He sighed, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach over and grab my previously thrown copy of today's news. He unraveled it, an annoyed expression creeping onto his lips. He refolded the paper and tossed it in a trashcan that sat against the side of his desk, muttering something about "cheap ass ink."

"You should speak with King Eret, Dream. You may find it helpful," he suggested to me, a sickeningly fake sweet tone dripping from his voice.

I finally looked up at him, realizing that his eyes were locked on the window beside me. I knew what he was staring at. The great walls of King Eret's castle was a great view for a paperboy's shop and home. 

"I haven't spoken to him since I dethroned George." I stared blankly, part of my mind still being far away from all of this.

His gaze fell upon me, blue eyes piercing my green. I shifted uncomfortably in my spot against the wall. Eye contact made me nervous when most of my focus was shifted. 

A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Maybe now is the time to speak with him then," he replied.

He stood up calmly, the annoying sound of old wood scraping against even older wood filling the silence between us. He hastily gathered up the items that sat messily on his desk, shoving most of them into a leather shoulder bag, the rest into messy drawers. I grimaced slightly at the sight of his unkempt area until I compared it to life these days.

No one, not even the finest detectives could figure out what the hell was causing these disappearances. It was difficult to even catch a clue when everyone kept, quite literally, vanishing without a trace. 

It made everyone in L'Manburg and the surrounding nations scared. Children would go missing from their beds at night, and the parents the next week. I knew the partner of the first citizen to go. She was so distraught, stating that everything had happened in a flash of orange and black. 

"One minute she was asleep next to me, and the next I hear her screams from far away!"

I cringed at the memory, the hurt in the poor woman's voice piercing my heart with nerves. I can't imagine what she was going through, or the pain that she was feeling. Her wife suddenly disappearing in the middle of the night. It all felt unreal to me, but the terror it instilled in my heart was evident. Anxiety would surge through my gut every time George or Nick took too long to reply to my messages, or when they were late for breakfast at Niki's bakery on Tuesdays. Life as we had known it was now tainted with fear, fear that my best friends' names would be in tomorrow's paper.

Or my own.

The paperboy ran his hand through his hair, which looked badly in need of a wash, and slid his chair under his desk. He slung the shoulder back over his head and approached me. His pale fingers planted themselves on my shoulder comfortingly. 

He took a deep breath. "Dream," he paused for a second, "you need to talk to him," he said, his eyes filled with understanding. 

As I met his gaze, I knew he wasn't talking about Eret anymore.

I hadn't spoken to George since that day either. I knew I had hurt him, and I wanted to respect his space and give him the time he needed. He didn't understand why I had done it, therefore, he hadn't made verbal contact with me in weeks. 

The boy removed his hand off of my shoulder and glided past me before opening the door and exiting. I wondered if he was upset with me that I couldn't remember his name, even though I'd been getting my papers from him for nearly a year. 

A breeze blew in from the window farthest across the room, causing a few papers that had been hung up to unclip themselves and fall to the ground. I kicked myself off of the wall with my foot and ambled over. I groaned internally at the smudged lines that stained the pages before me, knowing that I was going to be blamed for it. 

Reluctantly, I rose from my crouched position and clipped the pages back onto the string they had been drying on. If anything, the wind blew the ink across the page. 

As I finished hooking the last page up, a small, smooth brown book caught my eye from a shelf just above the line. I could only see the spine of the cover, which was laced with intricate designs that dented the beautiful leather. Curiously, I reached up and pinched the spine between my fingers before sliding it off of the shelf. It slid out easily, presenting it's cover to me. The cover had more intricate swirls and patterns dented into it. However, the top of the cover had letters dented into it. I squinted, scanning the words.

Ut omnes vestri somnia

Latin. I sighed. I could barely understand English, let alone a dead language. I flipped the book over in my hands and traced the patterns with my fingertip. I liked the feel of the book in my hands and the indentation under my fingertips. Texture has always been an important thing for me.

I slid the book into my shoulder bag and stepped away from the bookshelf to double-check the papers I had hung up. After quickly adjusting two pages that were a little too close, I retraced my steps over to the paperboys' desk. I slipped my hand into my pocket and dug out three smooth cut diamonds. They glistened in the palm of my hand as the sunshine hit them. I placed them on his desk as payment for my newfound book. I hadn't checked the price of the book, but I knew the boy probably needed the diamonds more than I. I stood up straight and repositioned my bag to a more comfortable place on my shoulder. The old spruce wood creaked in protest as I left the shop, closing and locking the door behind me.

The town outside was buzzing with conversation. To the left of the shop was a small cafe, one of my favorites. I turned on my heels and headed towards it, greeting the people who I passed with a friendly nod. As I strolled down the gravel path, my thoughts began getting clouded.

Who could I trust? The culprit could have been strolling down the same street as me. I could have walked past them as they had brunch in the pizza shop across from the cafe. Hell, it very well could have been the paperboy. How was I supposed to know?

A small bell jingled in alert as I entered the cafe. The cashier's head lifted in alert and she scrambled to get to the register before I did. A newbie. 

"Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you today?" She asked me politely, a notepad and pen at the ready.

"Coffee, please. A triple shot of espresso with a few shots of vanilla cream," I replied smoothly, already fumbling in my bag for her payment.

As I went to set a few iron nuggets on the counter for her, she lightly placed a hand on my own. I glanced up at her in confusion, my eyebrows furrowed.

"On the house-" she trailed a fingertip down my knuckle. "- Dream."

The way she said my name made me internally cringe, but my facial expression stayed the same. I removed my hand from her touch and placed the nuggets beside her hand, mumbling about how I insisted. I diverted eye contact and readjusted my bag uncomfortably, trailing over to my favorite spot in the corner of the building. I didn't look back at her, but I knew she was still staring at me. I sat myself down in the chair that faced towards the window, and away from her. I gazed past the windowpane at the street outside, admiring a patch of flowers that had been potted and planted in the windowsill. They were small, orange, and red flowers. Chrysanthemums. I reached down into my bag and slid out my previously purchased leather book, spreading it open on the table in front of me. The first page revealed itself as I flipped the cover open. I dragged my fingertips down the soft sugar cane paper, it was better quality than the paper the paperboy used for the news. Maybe I was genuinely right to leave three diamonds. The paper itself was blank. A journal. I sighed softly, partially hoping that it had a little writing in it for me to read as I drank my coffee. But, this was okay too. I had a lot of thoughts every hour of the day that would bottle themselves up and overflow at night. Maybe this would help that a little. 

Footsteps approached and suddenly my coffee was on my table, soft steam radiating off of the cup. I glanced up from my book at the cashier, who stared down at me with a flirtatious glint. I gulped slightly and looked away.

"Thank you," I muttered to her, reaching over to grab the mug. 

When she didn't reply but stayed still, I looked back up at her. She stood with her notepad in her hand, jotting down something hastily. When she was finished, she tore the page off and slipped it under my journal. Giggling, she sauntered back behind the counter. I tensed and squeezed my eyes shut in dread as I slid the piece of paper out. I reluctantly opened my eyes and sighed as I read the note.

Your coffee order is as tasty and you are. Call me?

Below that was a set of numbers, marked off with a messy heart. I sighed and shifted in my seat, pushing the paper across the table and grabbing the hot mug. As the piece of paper stared at me from across the surface, I internally grimaced at the cheesy pick-up line. But I had to give her props for confidence. I didn't meet many people who hadn't heard stories about me or feared my title, so a sweet coffee shop girl was a shock.

After I took a sample sip of my coffee, I reached down into my bag and pulled out a small ornate box. Inside it contained an eagle feather and a vial of ink- a gift from an old friend, Technoblade. Blade had given it to me as a birthday present, and I kept it with me at all times. I slipped the feather out of the velvet casing, as well as the ink vial, and set them down on the table gently. With my mug in one hand, I unclipped the lid of the jar and flipped it open. My mug made a 'clink' noise as I placed it back on the surface, and I began doodling.

I started small, littering swirls and arrows around in the top corners of the pages. I drew them pointing towards the middle of the page, where I began drawing a single eyeball. It wasn't terribly detailed, but it wasn't a quick sketch either. Just realistic enough to feel like it was looking at you. Art wasn't my thing, but sometimes I found myself thinking too many thoughts for my own mind to handle. Art helped with that.

The eye looked restless, but it was staring directly at me. Watching. Waiting. I grew uncomfortable staring back at it, so I focused on creating more mindless doodles around it. They ranged from circles to more swirls to poorly detailed weapons. Once I became bored with those, my eyes fell upon a space at the bottom middle of the page. I stared at it for a few seconds before I decided to make a rough outline of a sword. I began drawing the rough outline of the handle, making it sweet and ornate just like Blade's box. When I was satisfied with it, I started on the sleek, sharp Netherite blade next. The sword pierced through the eyeball and reached to the tippy top of the page. I bit my nail and stared down at my work, pondering. After adding a few smaller details to the grip of the sword and the blade itself, I set the ink-covered feather down in the vial and set back in my chair, admiring the piece. It was messy and smudged, but I was happy with it. 

The sword pierced through the middle of the eyeball, with arrows and swirls flying out of the wound. Trickles of blood tripped from the corners of the eyes like tears, the dark shading differentiating between the two substances. 

As I reached over to sip my coffee (which had now grown slightly too cold for comfort) I heard a small bell ding. I glanced up at the door.

A ping of anxiety boiled in my stomach and I hastily went to set my coffee cup down. He walked up to the cashier, removing his Netherite helmet mid-stride. He politely requested his coffee order from the cashier, the tint of his accent making my heart flutter. I dipped my head down and grabbed a napkin to clean the wet ink off of my quill. He hadn't noticed me yet. Or maybe he had and he just didn't want to speak with me. 

I wouldn't want to speak to me either.

As I packed away my items into the box and slipped them into my bag (along with the journal,) I downed the rest of my coffee. After that, I reached into my pocket and pulled out one more chunk of iron as a tip to the waiter. Yeah, she was a bad flirt, but eat the rich.

I slid my chair out and adjusted my bag, repositioning my chair underneath the table. I trailed my way towards the door, rushing to get out before he noticed me. 

In what world was he not going to notice me.

"Dream?"

I paused in my spot. He wanted to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to "Nightmare!" This is the very first chapter and the story itself is a WIP.


End file.
